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Shanawdithit in Toronto

Posted on May 22, 2019 by barczablog

Who would expect a new opera to affirm the value of the artform?

Shanawdithit is a new opera co-produced by Newfoundland’s Opera on the Avalon and Toronto’s Tapestry Opera. There was a workshop a few months ago, a tantalizing glimpse not so much of the work we would see so much as the process in play during the creation. Telling the story of a European encountering a vanishing Indigenous culture is in some ways a perfect microcosm for the entire settler enterprise, although usually the images are so brutal as to be unbearable. This is a gentler story because most of the slaughter is in the past at the time of this story. Shanawdithit as the last of the Beothuk could calmly answer the questions of an eager historian, whose curiosity parallels the attitude of many of us in the audience, with all our good intentions & ignorance, with most of the harm and violence left out.

Opera sometimes has a bad reputation among theorists, a medium for affirming & celebrating power, a way for nobles to lord it over the not so noble, to demonstrate class difference by forcing people in the cheap seats to sit through messages from the gods telling you that the nobles deserve their divinely ordained advantages and are really better than you.

But what if it could be re-purposed, employed to tell a different sort of story? We know opera to be a Euro-centric form often employed to celebrate the assimilation of other cultures. That very history works to its advantage in the collaborative venture that is Shanawdithit. While this may be a story of cultural imperialism & genocide, it doesn’t aim to teach the superiority of a way of life.

Yvette Nolan

Yvette Nolan & Dean Burry are the two main creators of this new opera that premiered last week. I am reminded of the Mahler 7th symphony that I saw last week, that employs various objects to make noise as part of a musical score. Burry starts us in a borderline realm, not quite silence nor noise, but with breath and the clicking of stones against one another, before slowly leading us into music of greater conviction.

Dean Burry

I have to think that Burry’s experience is an archetypical demonstration of the anxiety of influence. But no it’s not the usual version of one afraid of copying, fearful of sounding like Puccini or Wagner, so much as the concern he might seem to be appropriating a cultural artifact (for instance, thinking of the song sung during Louis Riel), or at the very least, suggesting something aboriginal. Not only do we have the real music but also the offensive musics that turn up in films or sports stadiums to signify something understood as “native”, and so also needing to be dodged like explosive mines hiding under the surface.

And so no wonder that Burry’s score seemed to lean more heavily on his orchestra for expression than upon his vocalists, who often seemed to proceed with great caution through the aforementioned minefield. Nolan sketches a story that is very generous in some ways, painting a portrait of William Cormack that verges on sainthood. I think he’s maybe too good to be true, a version of a man with great compassion and empathy alongside other settlers who are more typically bigoted. Shanawdithit left us a series of pictures, and Cormack wrote on top of these images. Perhaps the key is to recognize that while this might be a story of an Indigenous encounter with a European who seems too good to be true in my eye, it’s told from an Indigenous perspective, which means my experience does not apply here.

Among the interviews between Shanawdithit and Cormack, we see a climactic encounter that almost made me burst out laughing at the wonder of what we saw. I don’t think I’m being a spoiler to describe the growing enthusiasm with which Cormack listens to Shanawdithit tell of her people, as the stage is filled with life. He even seems to see them all and dance along with them. And abruptly they all stop and stare at him, even though we were really watching the memories of a culture inside her head. It’s pure magic.

I am reminded of a premiere I attended back in the 1980s, a bewildering new piece that was castigated by one critic because it didn’t do what music & opera usually do. I mention this because it’s important to carefully see what the piece is trying to do and how it works, rather than taking it to task for not being what we want it to be. There is not as much conflict as some people might expect in a piece of theatre. But Shanawdithit is more celebration than tragedy, and more spiritual than theatrical.

Nolan & Burry take us back in the classical direction in sometimes employing their chorus as a greek chorus. At times I suspected that when Shanawdithit is addressing her people, whether in her family or the Beothuk people more generally –all of whom she believes to have died out—her thoughts and their thoughts are echoed in the chorus: as though we hear the spirits, the souls of those who are still alive in another realm. The opera would challenge that assumption –that the Beothuk have died out—and affirms that in some respect they live on.

I have only one small complaint, which concerns the intelligibility of the text. Often I was guessing at the meaning of lines, perhaps due to the acoustics. I would recommend surtitles especially in those moments of passionate singing, or when more than one person sings at the same time. Nolan created a wonderful libretto that I wish I could hear in its entirety. Perhaps earlier –on opening night? in rehearsals?—the cast were paying more attention to their enunciation, whereas tonight I feel they were committed to their portrayals, totally into character. The surtitles would help, as I think their singing was superb and wouldn’t want them to restrain themselves for the sake of a few consonants.

Marion Newman

Marion Newman was very powerful, in recreating Shanawdithit, in all the poignancy we might expect for someone who was the last of the Beothuk people and aware of her legacy. Nolan gives her the role of a kind of commentator or spokesperson, larger than life. Clarence Frazer brought Cormack’s fervent curiosity to life, a portrayal of great compassion. Aria Evans plays a huge role that’s perhaps a bit difficult to describe, except to say that via dance we are given another pathway to the story, both what came before and what might yet come to pass.
(morning after: I realize belatedly that I have struggled so hard to come to terms with the piece that I omitted the conductor, the director, as well as several performers & collaborators, needing to get to bed…. If the piece works–and it does– they deserve credit)

Aria Evans

Shanawdithit articulates Cormack’s interviews, his desperate attempt to capture a culture before it vanished in the last person alive. The opera takes us beyond the face to face encounter of two persons to the encounter of peoples that might lead to reconciliation, the dream of peace and acceptance. While it may seem like an impossible dream, an artificial construct: it can work perfectly in the realm of opera.

Shanawdithit continues at the Imperial Oil Opera Theatre, 227 Front St East on
Wed. May 22, Thurs.May 23, and Sat May 25, all at 8:00 pm. , and then on June 21, 2019
St. John’s Arts & Culture Centre.

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Posted in Music and musicology, Opera, Politics, Spirituality & Religion | Tagged Clarence Frazer, Dean Burry, Marion Newman, Opera on the Avalon, Shanawdithit, Tapestry Opera, Yvette Nolan | 2 Comments

I swallowed a moon made of iron: Oxymoronic, Prophetic

Posted on May 18, 2019 by barczablog

Njo Kong Kie has created a one man show from Xu Lizhi’s texts, that he sings and enacts mostly from the piano, I swallowed a moon made of iron, presented at the Berkeley Street Theatre by Canadian Stage. That title comes from one of Xu’s poems. At times we get syncopated rock songs sung in Chinese, sometimes we get something more like classical lieder, a cross between Debussy & Schumann, the words taking us inside the sensuous experience of a worker in a place we can barely imagine.

No it’s not Marxist or revolutionary, these are the visceral life of a sensitive & compassionate young man rendered in verse.

Here’s the beginning of Njo’s program note:

In 2010 fourteen workers committed suicide at the Shenzhen complex of Foxconn, a major contract manufacturer of electronics for many of our digital devices. In 2014, 24 year old Xu Lizhi, working at the same plant, did the same. Xu was also a poet, known as one of the most promising young poets in China’s worker-poet literary movement, comprised of young labourers writing about the working class. His death sparked headlines in China and across the globe.

I remember in my childhood studying Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, pushing the envelope of tragedy with a hero who was not heroic. Where do we go from there(?), our teacher asked. Reality TV is one logical consequence, a discourse for an era when poetry & heroism seem impossible, a time epitomized by Donald Trump. As we’ve watched the rise of information technology & the transformation of labour, I’ve long hoped to see an opera someday created from R.U.R., Karel Capek’s play from the early 20th century (“RUR” =Rossum’s Universal Robots), which long seemed to be an ideal vehicle for an opera. I wondered about possible directions for the evolution of tragedy & drama, at least as seen on the operatic stage. Ah but I see that I’m way off in my grandiose predictions as I missed the logical trajectory. I could mention a story we saw from Bicycle Opera Project in 2017, namely Sweat, that showed us the exploitation of labour in the third world. It leads to what I saw tonight.

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Njo Kong Kie in I swallowed a moon made of iron (photo: Dahlia Katz)

Of course it was the ultimate irony that my experience of this opera (a staged song-cycle? Perhaps genre doesn’t matter) was disrupted by a mobile phone going off beside me. For a few moments I wondered if the sound was part of the score. There we were, contemplating the life and death of someone crushed under the massive wheels of an impersonal industry, a world apathetic & distant, epitomized in that phone going off in the midst of the performance.

Does anyone care?

Pardon my tirade, it was breath-takingly perfect. The work that might sensitize the Canadian audience and would make us care, this portrayal of a brutally insensitive industrial world was captured for me perfectly in that moment. If she had stood up in the middle of the show and walked out while she discussed where to meet for beer..? Only making it more obvious.

Njo’s music is sometimes heart-breakingly beautiful even as the text renders something unbearable. I think that’s as it must be. If instead the show went in the direction of something Wagnerian –where the music and the text and the scene all match in some sort of “total art”—you’d get something unbearable sounding & horrific looking to match the intimations of horror in the poetry. The startling contradictions of beauty bearing messages of heart-break & pain are unexpected, brilliant. That’s why it’s poetry. And that’s what I was getting at in using the word “oxymoronic”, where we have something contradictory. We are taken very sensitively into the world of Xu’s poetry by a choice in the mise en scene to illuminate the words for us, projecting chunks of text in English while at least some of those words are sung in Chinese.

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Njo Kong Kie singing through Xu Lizhi’s text (photo: Dahlia Katz)

Njo Kong Kie’s I swallowed a moon made of iron continues at the Berkeley Street Theatre until May 26th.

Posted in Books & Literature, Dance, theatre & musicals, Music and musicology, Opera, Popular music & culture | Tagged Canadian Stage, I swallowed a moon made of iron, Njo Kong Kie, Xu Lizhi | Leave a comment

TSO + Davis = Mahler magic

Posted on May 17, 2019 by barczablog

I marked this one down on my calendar a long time ago, even though tonight on May 16th is a key date for other reasons…

It’s COC’s Operanation
It’s the world premiere of Shanawdithit, the co-pro from Tapestry / Opera on the Avalon
and by the way today was also the fabulous interview on Q of Dean Burry & Yvette Nolan about their new opera (have a listen)

I opted for the Toronto Symphony at Roy Thomson Hall because they were playing one of my favourite pieces conducted by Sir Andrew Davis (knowing I could see Shanawdithit next week), and they made me glad I chose them, one of the best concerts I’ve seen all year.

I understand that Sir Andrew is not just Interim Artistic Director of the TSO but is like a curator in assembling programs such as tonight’s, a fascinating combination:

César Franck’s Variations Symphoniques for piano & orchestra,
Mahler’s 7th Symphony, which is my favourite Mahler Symphony
and “My Most Beautiful, Wonderful, Terrific, Amazing, Fantastic, Magnificent Homeland”: a very romantic & optimistic sounding Sesquie by Chan Ka Nin that almost sounded contemporary with the other two even with its bold quotation from “Oh Canada”.

But as Davis & the Toronto Symphony await the new conductor Gustavo Gimeno who will take over from Davis in the fall of 2020, they’re not just marking time. Oh no. This is an orchestra playing with passion & commitment, as Davis prepares them for the new regime. I’m eager to hear Gimeno who will be conducting in June, but for now this is an ensemble building for the future.

Sir Andrew Davis (Photo: Jaime Hogge)

Perhaps I should explain why I was fascinated by Davis putting the Franck with Mahler. While the Franck is shorter & requiring fewer players than the Mahler, they sound good together. Although the Mahler begins in B minor its opening motto begins with an F-sharp, the same key as the Franck; if one recalls old-fashioned key relationships found in classical symphonies, this one works nicely.

I was reminded of the conductor of the la boheme seen at the COC lately. Should a conductor be noticed? Should the music flow without interruption? should we be aware of the soloists? I only bring this up because I was yanked out of the dramatic illusion at the opera a few times by a conductor imposing his ego on the natural flow of the piece, which is not how I like it. Sometimes singers or soloists ostentatiously seem to call attention to themselves by altering a tempo, by disrupting the natural flow, and if they sing well we’ll forgive them. I heard an ideal reading of the Franck tonight from Davis and pianist Louis Lortie, seemingly effortless in the give & take. Franck segments the piece in places with changes from one sort of playing to another, from one kind of texture to another sound altogether. I’ve heard it many times, and often the pianist calls attention to themself in their solo work, interrupting the flow in their struggles to cope with the score. But Lortie and Davis were so seamless I was reminded of the self-effacing approach of a film-score. They say if you’re doing it right, you don’t notice the music. On this occasion Davis & Lortie made it seem easy, even though this is a deceptively tough score. Lortie’s flow never stopped the continuity of the piece nor slowed the luscious flow of notes from orchestra & piano, as though the soloist were just another player in the orchestra, not demanding anyone shine a spotlight on him. When I say “ideal” I mean that this is the best version I’ve ever heard in decades of marveling at this beautiful piece, no ego to mar the performance. I feel lucky to have been seated in a place where I could see the wonderful eye contact & communication between Davis & Lortie.

Louis Lortie at the piano, Andrew Davis at the podium and the Toronto Symphony (photo: Jag Gundu)

You’d think they’ve done this before, wouldn’t you…

And then on to the Mahler. I’m reminded of a TSO concert at Ontario Place back in 1980, where they also played the 7th Symphony. (can’t recall the conductor …. Hm could it also have been Davis?!). I remember that I ran into Carl Morey & Neil Crory, who both were dubious about this symphony; perhaps it was the scholarly consensus at the time? but they claimed the piece didn’t work.

Or was it that as of 1980, interpreters hadn’t yet figured it out? I had a recording I loved. I remember disagreeing with them at the time, loving this symphony in the slow version I had, conducted by Otto Klemperer. I’m much happier with quicker versions such as the Leonard Bernstein NY Philharmonic recording, that goes more like a bat out of hell.

Whatever pace you take –fast or slow – Mahler is a bit like Shakespeare, thinking of Hamlet or King Lear. Unless you have a good interpreter who can make a strong statement of the work, I’d almost say: why bother? There are many possible interpretations, so long as you HAVE an interpretation, a leader who can make a statement.

Davis? Ah, now we’re talking. The TSO have done Mahler over the past few years, and there’s a world of difference when someone comes who really has some ideas about how to do the work. What a joy watching this performance, hearing the orchestra respond to an experienced leader with a real vision of the work.

While Davis is not as quick as Bernstein he’s at the quicker end of the spectrum: which I think is preferable. The marching rhythms in the 1st movement cohere better if you push the orchestra, especially if you really seem to know what you’re asking for. When we had something schmaltzy or more introspective, Davis pulled back on the throttle, allowing a kind of meandering for those softer spots. And that made the climactic passages that much more dramatic, the last of the 1st movement being especially relentless.

I’ve seen Davis do this before, in the February Wagner concert where he demanded clean attacks, shorter notes with spaces between them to help articulation. Not only did this give us clarity but likely helped save the players’ chops, and spared our ears as well. The key passages were wonderfully big but that’s preferable than being loud all the way through.

This orchestra really seems to love playing for Davis, given their commitment tonight. And yet it wasn’t all big and bold. There was a great deal of internal detail, many beautiful solos throughout the orchestra in every movement. And the last movement was allowed to meander a bit without being rushed the way some conductors do it, so that when we finally came to the big statements at the end, there was some genuine excitement.

I’m sorry I can’t tell you to see it again, this was the second of two. But Davis & Lortie are back next week in another TSO program that includes Rossini’s William Tell overture, Saint-Saëns’s Piano Concerto No. 4 and Respighi’s Pines of Rome.

Posted in Music and musicology, Opera, Reviews | Tagged Cesar Franck, Chan Ka Nin, Gustav Mahler, Louis Lortie, Roy Thomson Hall, Sir Andrew Davis, Toronto Symphony | Leave a comment

Boheme to close the deal

Posted on May 5, 2019 by barczablog

It’s that time of year when one considers renewing the opera subscription. Oh don’t get me wrong, I was going to renew it anyway.

But the comment from the Mrs today was electric. She’s so glad to know that we’re renewing our subscription to the Canadian Opera Company. Because she liked the show and so did I. It’s great to feel connected.

Everything seems to have come together since opening night. All four of the principals (Blue, Chuchman, Meachem & Ayan) were good tonight, the smaller parts superb, and the chorus were strong in Acts II & III.

(l-r) Lucas Meachem, Angel Blue (background), Atalla Ayan (photo: Michael Cooper)

It was interesting to be sitting there recalling Moonstruck in Act III, and feeling connected to someone I’ve been with since that was a new movie playing in the theatres. Yes that was decades ago.

But we’re confirmed Puccini lovers, looking forward to seeing Turandot next season.
I cried in places I haven’t cried before. The crying is very cathartic, not always a heart-break thing.

Do you like to cry sometimes? It’s really a terrific release. And there are places we laugh too. Boheme is a mix of comedy & sadness at the end. I’m not going to call it tragedy.

The COC’s La Boheme continues at the Four Seasons Centre until May 22nd.

Posted in Cinema, video & DVDs, Opera, Personal ruminations & essays | Leave a comment

Robert Lepage’s 887 this time

Posted on May 4, 2019 by barczablog

Have you seen Robert Lepage’s 887?

This show’s been all over the world. I missed the first Toronto incarnation in 2015 but saw it & raved about it last time, brought to Toronto via Canadian Stage (one of the co-producers) in April 2017.

Two years later it’s back, and shouldn’t be missed. I should be saying “he’s back”, “he shouldn’t be missed” because it’s over two hours of a one-man show, a total tour de force. If you are an actor see it to be reminded of what an actor can do, see it and be prepared to be daunted, impressed but intimidated.

That’s the joke, I suppose, and it’s grown in the telling.

Lepage begins with the challenges of memorizing a poem. Ha-ha, he can’t manage, he can’t remember: all the while, speaking and delivering and acting this profound exploration that goes on for two hours plus. And so as we may wonder, will he ever learn that poem? he segues to bigger questions of memory & history implicit in the poem he is to learn, namely Michèlle Lalonde’s Speak White.

Is it the same as last time? Not possible. Lepage has changed and so have I. So have we all. The country is changing, morphing everything in the process. The experience seeing it the first time of course was special. But it’s a live performance, totally different this time out.

I remember Lepage seeming calmly magisterial last time, solid and confident throughout. Perhaps I’m projecting, but I think he’s been through a great deal this year. Instead I saw a very relaxed off the cuff kind of performance this time out: that is until we get to the end. I hope it’s not a spoiler to say that eventually Lepage does deliver the poem.

But where he made it a kind of logical conclusion previously, a calm resolution to the performance, this time—at least tonight—was unexpectedly passionate. The energy Lepage brought to the two-plus hours of this piece are already impressive. But in the last part of the show he kicks it up another notch. There’s an element that might be fury or anger or terror, a desperation. He is raging against the dying of the light, where the light might be the dying aspirations of the Parti Québecois and its nationalist dream, a generation of revolutionaries, greying, losing their mojo or simply irrelevant, forgotten by an apathetic generation. Where that dream seemed to be quietly fading in 2017, held up by Lepage like an old slide for us to see illuminated, tonight it was more like a distant memory, like an unconscious patient on a table needing to be resuscitated: by Lepage’s wild energy. I wonder what Lalonde would think of Lepage’s urgent pained delivery tonight? But he built inexorably to that climax, mindful rather than uncontrolled.

It’s an astonishing display of virtuosity that I did not expect, even having seen the show before.

Where the poem was a perfect little bit of lace or nice icing on a cake at the end of his meditation last time out, THIS TIME? he has reckless moments, jazzy and energized, knocking it out of the park, to finish the show at peak energy. I wonder if he can replicate this, yet of course I have no doubts at all. This was planned as masterfully as anything Wagner would have composed (remembering that above all Wagner was a master-manipulator).

I can’t get over Lepage’s theatrical vocabulary on this occasion. I don’t think there are any aerials, nobody hanging from a wire as we saw in his Ring cycle operas, in Damnation de Faust or the Tempest.

A scene from Robert Lepage’s production of The Tempest at Festival Opéra de Québec, 2012 © Nicola Vachon 2012

But I think he’s come at the story-telling in a different way to do many of the same things as before.

We’ve seen the shadow – puppets before, as in the Nightingale & other stories, that we saw from the Canadian Opera Company. We’ve seen models and puppets standing in for humans in the Ring operas.

The descent to Nibelheim from Das Rheingold (Ring cycle at the Metropolitan Opera), one of several moments when you couldn’t tell whether it was a person or a puppet-double.

Yet it was very different on this occasion.

I was reminded of a few obsessive model-building movie-makers:

• Terry Gilliam
• Tim Burton
• Wes Anderson

It’s miraculous to see the same kind of micro- and macro-worlds in live theatre that Burton or Anderson have built & filmed. Lepage brings high-res cameras in close for amazing close-ups, that are bizarrely real at the same time that they scream out to us that they’re artificial and can’t possibly be real.

The big projected images are shot from a camera in the model car believe it or not (photo: Elabbe).

What’s this about? A need for control? A way to enact a kind of vulnerability? Lepage is revisiting some remarkable moments in our history, such as Charles de Gaulle’s visit to Québec, or the FLQ kidnappings & murder of Pierre Laporte.

I’ve been trying to understand a mystery lately, re-watching Lepage’s 4 Ring operas on video. There are moments that I keep watching over and over, mesmerized. I have this word I want to use that seems apt, that the images work so well as to make the meaning immanent, manifest and completely transparent. I think it’s easy to underestimate Lepage, because he’s making something so simple & concrete as to show us a physical model of an apartment building, of a parade with a crowd. But it’s not that the models are somehow going to explain, so much as they make it possible for Lepage to enact the key moments, to show us the experience from the past even though it seems to be happening again, in miniature. It’s totally surreal, totally crazy on the literal level. But at another level we’re seeing Lepage live this, that his movable apartment building is like a model of himself, a deconstruction of his childhood and his culture. He is in a real sense drilling down into himself and lo & behold, there’s always something there.

It’s breath-taking in its simplicity, astonishingly powerful. We get to have it both ways, to be on the inside experiencing it while also being alien and on the outside, critiquing.

I have been obsessively watching the Ring videos over the past few days, to see Lepage’s work again. I think people over-think this, mistaking it for something else as they demand it do what other productions & what other designs have done. That’s a fallacy I think. When Lepage is standing beside that apartment house or the parade it’s a mistake to see that as a set. They’re actually both less & more. In a sense they are like characters or installations, models of the self, or models of the culture. Lepage doesn’t quite become part of the set, but his phenomenal feat of over two-hours of intense delivery makes him both the subject & the object, the matter at hand and the means to explore that matter.

Robert Lepage and Ex Machina: 887 (Photo: Érick Labbé)

Nevermind that big machine in the Met Ring cycle. Lepage himself is a superb machine.

If you are old enough to remember the 70s let alone the 60s and 50s, you must see this show, a meditation on Canadian history & identity, as well as a profound investigation of memory & cognition. 887 continues at the Bluma Appel Theatre until May 12th.

Posted in Art, Architecture & Design, Dance, theatre & musicals, Opera, Personal ruminations & essays, Politics, Psychology and perception | Tagged 887, Canadian Stage, Quebec, Robert Lepage | 2 Comments

Questions for John Abberger: 4th annual Bach Festival

Posted on May 3, 2019 by barczablog

John Abberger, one of North America’s leading performers on historical oboes, is a familiar face locally as the principal oboist with Tafelmusik (bio), often playing key solos in concerts as he did just last week. John is also Artistic Director of the Toronto Bach Festival.

I wanted to find out more about John and to ask him a few questions about the fourth annual Bach Festival coming up May 24th -26th 2019.

John Abberger

1) Are you more like your father or your mother?

To be honest, I feel that I am an interesting combination of my parents, without any one of them predominating. My father was a thoughtful and somewhat shy person. I think in my youth I took after him more, but as I grew in my career as a musician it was necessary to find a way to overcome that diffidence, and the example of my mother provided a powerful resource upon which I could draw.

2) What is the best or worst thing about what you do?

Pretty much all of the things I do have good and bad aspects. For example, I love playing the oboe, but making reeds, not so much. But you can’t play the oboe (on a high level, anyway), without making reeds. It’s part of playing the instrument. At this point the Bach festival is being run by myself and a couple of other people who work on a very part-time basis, or who are board members volunteering their time. There are many tasks to be done, and most of them I find interesting, but there are times when I feel overwhelmed with the volume of work to be done.

(Not sure I’ve answered your question).

3) Who do you like to listen to or watch?

I don’t listen to music a lot at home. When I do, I like to listen to music I am unlikely to perform myself , such as the keyboard works of Bach, and I also occasionally listen to some of the later repertory that I don’t get to play anymore, such as Strauss and Mahler and Shostakovitch. I‘m a horrible classical music nerd, though. I like good jazz, but I don’t listen to it at home.

I love going to live theatre which I do as much as I can fit into my schedule, and I have lately been sampling some of the amazing wealth of high-quality television that is available now.

4) What ability or skill do you wish you had, that you don’t have?

I definitely wish I could play the keyboard with some minimal level of competence. I actually started my musical life taking piano lessons when I was 7, but it never seemed to captivate me the way orchestral instruments did later, and I abandoned it after a few years.

5) When you’re just relaxing and not working, what is your favourite thing to do?

Cooking, reading, going to the theatre, watching some of the above-mentioned television dramas with my wife.

More questions about preparing the 4th Annual Bach Festival May 24-26.

1) You wear several hats, playing oboe for Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra, in the productions for Opera Atelier and annually organizing this Festival. Of the many things you do, from practicing your oboe, performing on the oboe here and abroad with other groups such as the American Bach Soloists & curating a festival: what’s the hardest job for you, and what’s the most fun thing you do?

I feel very fortunate in that I mostly do things that I really enjoy. I love playing the oboe, with Tafelmusik particularly, but also with other groups. Making reeds can feel like a chore, but that’s part of playing the oboe. I love the work of creating each festival, and the work of the musical preparation that goes into the artistic direction. There are some purely administrative tasks that I could do without, but that’s a bit like making reeds for the oboe, it’s part of the job. What’s challenging for me is when all these worlds collide, and I don’t have time to enjoy the tasks that I love because there are deadlines to meet. But that’s life, isn’t it?

2) Your Bach Festival is growing, now with the addition of concerts at the Black Swan Tavern on Danforth. Can you describe what we’d hear in the Tavern?

We are very excited to be adding this new festival event this year. We want to do something more outside-the-box, we want to present some interesting Bach-inspired repertory, and we want to create a different kind of experience for our audience, and perhaps attract some new listeners outside of our typical audience.

Elinor Frey (photo: Elizabeth Delage)

The concert will feature Bach’s Sixth Suite for solo cello, which was written for a 5-string cello (rather than the usual 4), and this will be paired with two works that Elinor Frey has commissioned to be written specifically for this 5-string instrument. This will be our first venture outside of the typical concert format, and we are eager to see how it is accepted by our audiences and by the community. Bach performed a lot of his music in a coffee house in Leipzig, so it’s actually a good example of historically informed performance in action. I hope people will feel free to keep drinking, and if they want to talk quietly and get up whenever they like, I think that will be great. The hallowed silence and reverential devotion for the musical art is a Victorian construct. I don’t think that aesthetic applies generally to the way music was performed in the 18th century.

3) You describe The Mission of the Bach Festival as follows:
“Seventy per cent of Bach’s music is unknown to the average music lover, yet his music stands out as one of the most profound expressions of the human spirit in western art music. The mission of the Toronto Bach Festival is to introduce audiences to lesser-known works of Johann Sebastian Bach, while presenting perennial favourites, all in historically informed performances.”
Could you give examples from your program?

Our opening concert this year is a great example. It combines one of the most iconic of Bach’s works, the Brandenburg Concerto No. 5, with two cantatas. When it comes to the cantatas, the 70% figure goes down to about 97%! Of the more than 200 cantatas that Bach wrote, only about 5 are well-known. BWV 152, which opens the programme, is even more of a rarity, and is seldom performed because of its unusual instrumentation, which includes viola d’amore and viola da gamba.

The Lutheran Masses are another good example. The music is all recycled from cantata movements, so they are very similar to the Mass in b minor in that sense, but these works are not performed very often as they are overshadowed by that great work. And we are including on that programme an independent setting of the Sanctus, one of a small handful of individual sacred vocal works that seldom find their way onto regular programmes of Bach, perhaps because they are not part of a larger work.

4) Please tell us about the program in the Bach Festival this year.

Harpsichordist Luc Beauséjour

Friday, May 24, 8 pm
BRANDENBURG 5
Luc Beauséjour, harpsichord soloist
Julia Wedman, violin soloist
Directed by John Abberger

Violinist Julia Wedman

Programme:
Tritt auf die Glaubensbahn, BWV 152
Brandenburg Concerto No. 5, BWV 1050
Concerto in A minor for Violin and Strings, BWV 1041
Du wahrer Gott und Davids Sohn, BWV 23

Alto Daniel Taylor

Hélène Brunet, soprano
Daniel Taylor, alto
Nicholas Weltmeyer, tenor
Joel Allison, bass

joel_allison_Photo_Credit_Ian_McIntosh_Photography

Bass Joel Allison (Photo: Ian McIntosh Photography)

Alison Melville, recorder
John Abberger, oboe
Marco Cera, oboe
Thomas Georgi, viola d’amore

Julia Wedman, violin
Valerie Gordon, violin
Patrick Jordan, viola
Felix Deak, violoncello and viola da gamba
Alison Mackay, bass
Joelle Morton, violone
Christopher Bagan, harpsichord

Saturday, May 25, 3:30 pm
LECTURE
Bach and the French Style
Ellen Exner, lecturer
New England Conservatory of Music

Saturday, May 25, 5 pm
HARPSICHORD RECITAL
Bach and the French Style
Including
English Suite No. 3 in G minor, BWV 808
French Suite no 5 in G major, BWV 816

Luc Beauséjour, harpsichord soloist

Saturday, May 25, 9 pm
LATE NIGHT CONCERT
Elinor Frey, violoncello
Featuring the Suite No. 6 in D major, BWV 1012
with new works by Isaiah Ceccarelli and Scott Edward Godin.

John Abberger (photo: Sian Richards)

Sunday, May 26, 3 pm
LUTHERAN MASSES
Directed by John Abberger

Programme:
Mass in G major, BWV 236
Sanctus in D major, BWV 238
Mass in F major, BWV 233

Hélène Brunet, soprano
Emma Hannan, soprano
Daniel Taylor, alto
Simon Honeyman, alto
Lawrence Wiliford, tenor
Nicholas Weltmeyer, tenor
Joel Allison, bass
Matthew Li, bass

Scott Wevers, horn
Christine Passmore, horn
Marco Cera, oboe
Gillian Howard, oboe
Dominic Teresi, bassoon

Julia Wedman, violin
Valerie Gordon, violin
Cristina Zacharias, violin
Gretchen Paxson, violin
Patrick Jordan, viola
Felix Deak, violoncello
Alison Mackay, bass
Christopher Bagan, harpsichord

5) You’re so busy! Do you find you have enough time to practice your instrument and to learn new works? Are you one of those artists like Horowitz who doesn’t practice very much? Or do you play regularly.

I don’t think there are any performing musicians (including Horowitz) who don’t practice regularly. It’s part of the job. I enjoy learning new works. That’s when I really recharge as an artist. I have been studying Bach’s works for my entire career, and although I have to look at them a little differently when I am preparing to direct a performance, it’s all a part of a process that I find intensely fascinating.

6) Has the festival with its focus on lesser-known works changed your thinking about what you play?

I definitely think performing more of Bach’s works provides a larger context for us to evaluate his achievement as a composer. Hearing and experiencing more of his music deepens our understanding of all of his works, both the familiar and the less familiar. I also think hearing more north German sacred music from the generations before Bach can really enrich how we hear his music. This is why I included the Passion setting by Heinrich Schütz in last year’s festival, and I hope to perform more north German sacred music at the festival in the future.

I’m not really one of the diggers, though. There are amazing scholars who devote their careers to that kind of thing, and it’s a time-consuming business, to be sure, to say nothing of the expertise necessary to do that kind of research properly. What I do is sift through the results of their work. But with Bach it’s all been examined in immense detail over the last century or so.

7) In the spirit of your festival, Are there any lesser known composers or works that you wish Tafelmusik might undertake?

Just as I feel about the Bach’s lesser known works enriching our understanding of his more familiar works, I think the same applies to larger repertories. Like any musical organization, Tafelmuisk has to balance the interests and wishes of the artistic director with the need to sell tickets to the concerts. That having been said, I think it‘s really great when we can explore lesser known composers. Even when the music isn’t “first-rate” as defined by the standards of Bach and Handel, it can really be interesting to hear, and it definitely deepens our understanding of what makes Bach and Handel so great. I’d apply this not only to early 18th century “baroque” music, but also to early classical and later 18th century music. Mozart and Haydn are great composers, but what makes them so great? Hearing more of their contemporaries can really help us to understand what makes them great, and the audience will attain this understanding on an intuitive level, without a lot of musical analysis terminology (very useful to musicians, but a real turn-off to the average listener).

8) Is there a teacher or influence you’d care to name that you especially admire?

I guess I’d say the historically informed performance movement itself has been a profound influence on the direction my career has taken. From its roots in Europe in the 1970s, it was just beginning to make its way to North America in the early 1980s. When I finished my Masters degree at the Julliard School in 1981 I was looking for an artistic direction, and my love of Bach and baroque music in general naturally led me to explore this field, which was just beginning to bloom in New York and Boston and Toronto. I immediately felt a deep attraction to the idea of applying historical research to bring music from this period alive for audiences today. I’ve never looked back. Bach’s music (and that of his contemporaries) makes so much more sense performed this way, and I believe it gives performers a better way to communicate its profound beauty to our listeners. For me it continues to be a wonderful adventure today, all these years later.

*******

John Abberger and the 4th Annual Bach Festival are coming to Toronto May 24-26. Just click for further information about the Toronto Bach Festival.

Posted in Interviews, Music and musicology, Press Releases and Announcements | Tagged Alison Mackay, Bach Festival, Christopher Bagan, Daniel Taylor, Elinor Frey, Ellen Exner, Felix Deak, Hélène Brunet, Isaiah Ceccarelli, Joel Allison, Joelle Morton, Johann Sebastian Bach, John Abberger, Julia Wedman, Lawrence Wiliford, Luc Beauséjour, Marco Cera, Nicholas Weltmeyer, Patrick Jordan, Scott Edward Godin, Scott Wevers, Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra, Thomas Georgi, Valerie Gordon | Leave a comment

COC Otello

Posted on May 1, 2019 by barczablog

On paper the Canadian Opera Company’s new offering, an English National Opera production of Verdi’s Otello directed by David Alden and starring Russell Thomas, Gerald Finley & Tamara Wilson is as good as it gets. It’s an incredible luxury to be able to see a black man with a dramatic tenor voice sing this role, usually sung by Caucasians in blackface. And even better when that man is a good singing actor as Thomas has shown himself to be in recent outings here in Toronto for the COC.

I think it will get better, as indeed it improved after the intermission. In the first two acts the brilliant components didn’t quite gel. I wasn’t sure whether Thomas was over-parted or that the COC orchestra led by the ebullient Johannes Debus was perhaps a bit too enthusiastic, too overpowering in volume. I’m thinking the latter, given that the chorus were also sounding a bit overwhelmed in the first act, singing accurately but not as loudly as I would have expected in the heart-stopping storm scene with which the opera opens. But come to think of it, I was reminded of Measha Bruggergosman’s struggles in Idomeneo, wondering if the tentative sound from the chorus was perhaps due to the huge amount of choreography expected of them, challenging movement in places where their singing is also super challenging. They sounded accurate but they couldn’t cut loose. By the time we got to the third act the balance sounded a bit better, a scene where thankfully the direction let them simply stand and sing. Surprise surprise, the voices sounded much bigger.

There are two other important singers to mention.

This is the first time I watched an Otello with so much focus on the Desdemona, namely Tamara Wilson, because hers is a genuine old-fashioned Verdi soprano in the best sense. It was lovely to see a Desdemona looking so happy right into the last act, disturbed and shaken by her husband’s behaviour yet still showing love & kindness to him hopeful and not defeated. This approach to the arc of her character makes every moment watchable. Every little detail was right, from the smiles she had for Cassio—that infuriate her husband—to the conflicted emotions in the last act when she really took the stage, perhaps the finest portrayal seen on a COC stage this season.

Tamara Wilson and Russell Thomas in the COC’s Otello (photo: Michael Cooper)

If you’re a regular reader of this blog you may have seen me rave about Gerald Finley before, as a singer & actor whom I admire very much. I’m very sympathetic tonight, watching him trying to cope with an odd production that pushes him very much against type vocally & dramatically. When I say that I mean that he’s a good person, being asked to play something not just evil but demonic, and I don’t think there’s any way for good singing or acting to fix that. While I usually avoid spoilers there’s a rather big difference in the way this ends. Iago normally runs away at the end when confronted. In Alden’s production it’s as though Otello & Desdemona die, the others who were observing slink away like zombies, leaving Iago onstage. The winner? In so many ways this seems to push Finley out of his normal comfort zone, because this is played in such an extreme fashion, with vocalism to match.

And that’s problematic for the dynamics of the story. I’ve talked about this before, I think. If Otello is not to look like a complete pathetic dupe, Iago must be believable, must really be “onesto Iago” that we can believe in as a trustworthy person. But this interpretation pushes a very melodramatic reading. I refer you to Tito Gobbi’s delivery of the phrase at the end of the dream aria, when he says he sees the handkerchief in the hand of Cassio, saying “Cassio” in a hushed voice followed by the tenor’s angry explosion. Finley shouts it. There’s a great deal of the portrayal that is done in this unsubtle fashion, what I’d call un-Finley like. But it’s what the production asks him to do, trapping both him and Thomas, with Thomas in a worse position. At the beginning Thomas comes in to sing “Esultate” (exhorting the people to celebrate his victory), then petulantly throws the Venetian flag at the crowd as though he’s angry at them. WTF? I suppose the director wants to signal that Otello is already crazy, so tightly wound that he’s ready to crack up. The love-duet is fabulous—Tamara & Russell sounding exquisite. But then the direction starts to get creepier and creepier. Iago lurks at the end of that duet, and will dominate the beginning of Act IV, which is normally a blessed respite from all the villainy, when we get the two vulnerable women alone in Desdemona’s bedroom, the most beautiful moments of the opera even if you don’t also have Tamara Wilson to sing it. No, Alden wants to invade that too. And of course when we get to the end, the moment of ultimate nobility, “niun mi tema” sung so beautifully by Thomas, the surrounding courtiers slink away, while Iago stares at us in triumph. I’m not sure what Alden thought he was doing, but I’ll tell you what he did for me; he murdered the tragic element in this tragedy. The music is beautiful, the moment should be noble and stirring. The one who should have slunk off, who should finally be brought to justice in the final moments of the opera seems to be gloating. The modernization in the set & costumes (bringing it into the 19th century) didn’t trouble me at all; but changing the ending?

Different story (literally).

Andrew Haji is a likeable Cassio, a perfect foil to Otello in his affability & lyrical directness. Önay Köse was a solid Lodovico. Owen McCausland was a foppish Roderigo, Carolyn Sproule a nerdy Emilia, but very strong in the last scene.

David Alden’s Otello continues at the Four Seasons Centre until May 21st.

Posted in Dance, theatre & musicals, Music and musicology, Opera, Personal ruminations & essays, Reviews | Tagged Andrew Haji, Canadian Opera Company, Carolyn Sproule, David Alden, Gerald Finley, Giuseppe Verdi, Onay Kose, Otello, Owen McCausland, Russell Thomas, Tamara Wilson | Leave a comment

Workshop of Shakespeare’s Criminal

Posted on April 27, 2019 by barczablog

Tonight I witnessed the first of 3 workshop performances at the Factory Theatre of Shakespeare’s Criminal from Orpheus Productions, a new chamber opera with music by Dustin Peters and libretto by Sky Gilbert, starring Marion Newman, Dion Mazerolle and Nathaniel Bacon, to be presented again April 27 & 28.

Sky Gilbert

As I was waiting for the show to begin I was struck by how similar two words sound,

Gender:
“either of the two sexes (male and female), especially when considered with reference to social and cultural differences rather than biological ones. The term is also used more broadly to denote a range of identities that do not correspond to established ideas of male and female” (via google)
–and–
Genre:
“a category of artistic composition, as in music or literature, characterized by similarities in form, style, or subject matter.” (via google)

And isn’t it true that sometimes people are much too busy classifying, as though by assigning a category it somehow makes us safer.

It was a workshop. By that I mean that it’s perhaps unreasonable to even have something resembling a review, given that the performers were probing and exploring, helping the composer & librettist develop their ideas. While the audience lapped it up, sitting spellbound throughout, it’s unreasonable to demand that a workshop please the audience. And so please understand that I am hesitant to be judgmental of artists in their exploration. This can be as intimate & vulnerable as psycho-therapy.

We were watching a partially-staged performance at the Factory Theatre, a string quartet conducted by composer Dustin Peters (namely Sarah Fraser-Raff, first violin, Bijan Sepanji, second violin, Brenna McClane, viola and Sybil Shanahan ‘cello).

Mezzo-soprano Marion Newman

As mezzo-soprano Marion Newman delivered something resembling a prologue to frame the story, I was swept up into Shakespeare’s Criminal within seconds.

I felt we were in the realm of those who say ‘woot’, (who must not to be confused with the knights who say “Ni!”) whereas I am one who says “bravo” whether I’m seeing an opera or a play. And so while this was a concert presentation, there was a great deal of investment in a dramatic illusion, in performances that felt genuine & real. The wooters are people who would see this as theatre, whereas the bravoers (like me) would see this largely as music.

Newman’s character is the Female Academic, who in delivering the prologue seems to stand outside the action as though she were a deus ex machina with god-like powers: as we would see as the story unfolded (especially near the end). I can’t help wanting to see her as a version of Sky, who could exercise certain types of power in the academic world (because he is a professor) or in the dramatic world (because he is also a prolific playwright). Forgive me if that sounds reductive.

Composer Dustin Peters

Peters’ score is very attractive, the music very singable. In the hour or so that we were in the theatre, not only was the music very enjoyable to hear (tonal, sometimes synchopated), but very fast-moving as far as exposition and use of text. I’m reminded of something Anthony Tommasini said in his recent book The Indispensable Composers, when he suggested that John Adams tends to make things seem too long. Some composers seem to take the smallest amounts of text and use a great deal of music, repeating and even milking the text for all it’s worth. In contrast, Peters & Gilbert are very generous, moving things along very quickly as far as exposition is concerned. Granted, this was workshop and so I suppose the creators were testing and will continue to test this material in front of audiences. But in contrast to Adams there’s already enough here for much more opera than what we saw. Most of the hardest parts –good melodies and beautiful moments –are already there. I think they will want to expand the ending somewhat, but then again that’s likely something that could develop in different directions, again depending on such considerations as genre (oh dear, that word again). Peters chose to write in an accessible tuneful style, at times stunningly beautiful.

Peters’ score was presented with a string quartet, which may or may not be how it will be done in future. But it’s a remarkable strategy that allows the singers to be heard, especially when we recall that male voices are usually the ones that have more trouble carrying over an orchestra. Newman’s voice had no trouble of course, including some bold coloratura passages, some intriguing choices from Peters to take us away from anything we might call realistic (if singing can ever be understood as real) into something stylized and artificial.

Shakespeare’s Criminal – Nathaniel Bacon

One of the reasons I called attention to the “land of the woot”, was because of a choice of emphasis I thought I saw in the presentation, that likely parallels the expectations of most in the audience. I discussed this briefly after the show with Sky, expressing my surprise that there wasn’t more applause. He thought that the one time applause erupted was for the content rather than the performance: at the end of a number I will call “the best of us” (and forgive me if I am paraphrasing badly). It’s a beautiful song sung by Nathaniel Bacon presented while we watch a series of photos projected, of gay men who were claimed in the great plague, which serves as at least some of the subtext for this story about an HIV positive man. I didn’t want to disagree, only that I aggressively started that applause through my tears, very moved by this moment in a theatre full of people who likely aren’t accustomed to stopping a show to show your appreciation. I kept waiting in similar places (after wonderful solos or ensembles deserving applause), and this time held back to see whether there’d be any applause, but no there wasn’t any, and not because of any deficiency in the performances; it’s just a cultural thing, I believe. There’s a different experience if you sit still for every song, as opposed to shouting your approval, breaking it up into a series of numbers: especially if you get a reaction from the performer, breaking the 4th wall. I suggested to Sky that maybe he should plant someone, like a claque (NB while I jokingly claimed I had done this, it wasn’t as a paid supporter but simply as a sibling… of course I clapped for my brother. He was and is amazing to hear). But by setting this up artificially you can change the show. I am not sure if Sky was just being polite to my suggestion, but I think any show becomes very different when interrupted by applause. There were a few places where the text was hard to understand, where subtitles might be a useful choice –even though it’s in English –because of the ambiguity of some of the phrases, in poetic diction.

The three performers each had wonderful moments, and worked well together. Newman has one especially intriguing moment when we’re advised that the 4th wall will be transgressed, and she then proceeds to sing (rough paraphrase) something along the lines of “what the shit is happening” over and over and over. Oh sure it’s funny, but it also works to deconstruct the illusion, as we get past the politically correct language of romance, to something much more genuine, in speaking to the matter of physical desire, of taking off clothes and getting down to business…

Baritone Dion Mazerolle

The two men are cast in a way that likely corresponds to the way the score has been composed.

Baritone Dion Mazerolle is Shakespeare, who is mature & somewhat repressed in his sexuality, singing about “the closet” at one point
Nathaniel Bacon is the Young Man, young, attractive and much more direct

The creative team opted to distinguish between the two by having the genuine operatic voice assigned to the closeted male, while a lighter voice more attuned to broadway or pop music sings the young man, who is in touch with his sexuality. I am trying to sort this out in my head wondering if they expect us in the audience to associate “broadway” with gayness. Maybe it’s generational (one is much older) or simply a contrast of vocal styles, a music for the young man that is aligned with a younger generation. Each had their moments. I’m very fond of Dion’s voice, a wonderfully expressive baritone, but Bacon’s sound was an excellent approach to his part, which is written quite a bit higher I think…(?)

There’s a great deal of beauty in this workshop, that I’d recommend to you without reservation this weekend at Factory Theatre. It’s not a finished opera, please note, but represents some very bold steps in that direction. I’m reminded of a topic that came up in my recent interview with Dean Burry, namely popularity (and maybe I’m reminded also because Marion Newman will play the title role in that show). Opera –meaning composers and critics alike—has been very conflicted about beauty over the past century. The most successful composers of the last hundred years –Puccini, Richard Strauss, Philip Glass—embraced a tonal world of melody that has been largely ignored by the so-called serious composers, while composers in more popular media –thinking of film-music, of musicals, as well as popular music media—never stopped aiming for beauty. It seems like a no brainer. So the conservatory might turn up their nose at you while you make millions for your composition? I think that’s a small price to pay.

I was very moved. I think you would be too. And now I am eager to see what Peters & Gilbert do in the further growth & development of this story that I hope to see again.

Posted in Dance, theatre & musicals, Music and musicology, Opera, Popular music & culture | Tagged Dion Mazerolle, Dustin Peters, Factory Theatre, Marion Newman, Nathaniel Bacon, Orpheus Productions, Shakespeare's Criminal, Sky Gilbert | 3 Comments

Tafelmusik: The Hunt

Posted on April 26, 2019 by barczablog

Jeanne Lamon was back tonight to lead Tafelmusik in Jeanne Lamon Hall at St-Paul’s Centre. There’s a quiet recognition of the journey made together. While Lamon is now called “Music Director Emerita,” recognizing a new role as a kind of senior advisor, there is still the deep relationship that one senses when she leads this orchestra.

Jeanne Lamon, Tafelmusik’s Music Director Emerita (photo: Sian Richards)

Tonight was a curious mix in a program titled “The Hunt”. Horns were prominent in the works by Mozart, Kraus & Haydn.

Scott Wevers played Mozart’s 4th horn concerto on a modern replica of an old-style horn, valve-less that didn’t stop him from showing astonishing control, either in scales or arpeggiated passages. We heard a couple of marvelous cadenzas including one that elicited a few giggles as Wevers took us down down down to the lowest part of his instrument’s range. I’ve been listening to these concerti for years, but this is the first time I’ve been lucky enough to hear a performance like this, without benefit of a modern instrument. While a Tuckwell or a Brain or a Damm offer a heroic sound, and yes they do sound brave & bold on their recordings, I recognize this as real courage, to be facing the tests of a concerto without valves. There are of course trade-offs, so one can’t be as loud or as perfect: but come to think of it, that’s true for everything we hear from Tafelmusik. Instead we’re getting something that would be recognizable for someone from Mozart’s time. And the vulnerability of the performance creates genuine drama.

Jeanne Lamon with Tafemusik (photo: Sian Richards)

This is also my first time hearing Mozart’s Symphony #25 without benefit of modern instruments, such as we heard in the score of Amadeus. The first minutes of the film –when they’re carrying the bleeding Salieri through the streets of Vienna to a doctor—feature those contradictory opening passages whether the passionate G-minor tutti that begins or the answering solo from the plaintive oboe. For both the concerto & the symphony Lamon spurred the horses –that is the orchestra—to a brisk gallop, apt for a chase.

And ditto for the closing movement of the Haydn symphony, that inspired the epithet, “The Hunt” (or La Chasse). I think almost everyone in the space was sitting there waiting for this familiar piece, so well known but so different when done by this kind of ensemble, whether in the galloping opening figure or the woodwind passages answering.
And so while Tafelmusik are known for baroque –they’re called “Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra” after all—this is really what I dream of, that they venture into more recent times, laying claim to repertoire from the time after the baroque. And I see in the brochure for next season that this concert is just a tiny taste of what’s to come. Next season includes a wind concert program including Beethoven, Mozart, Rossini & a world premiere from Cecilia Livingston, another featuring Mendelssohn & Tchaikovsky with a world premiere by Andrew Balfour, plus a new original program from Allison Mackay mixing music from different cultures. Oh yes, there’s also lots of baroque too (Messiah & the St John Passion of Bach), in the exciting season to come. Oh my…!

Posted in Music and musicology, Reviews | Tagged Amadeus, Jeanne Lamon, Joseph Haydn, Scott Wevers, Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart | Leave a comment

Questions for Molly Reisman

Posted on April 25, 2019 by barczablog

The official bio says that
Molly Reisman is a Canadian writer, producer and performer who is endlessly curious about how humans connect, empathize and interact with the world around them, that Molly is a graduate of NYU Tisch’s MFA Graduate Musical Theater Writing Program, and she completed her undergraduate studies at Toronto’s Ryerson University where she majored in acting with a minor in business entrepreneurship.

I encountered Molly in a show at Ryerson, where teacher Cynthia Ashperger gave her the tough assignment of playing a quirky older lady. It’s funny because I think Cynthia & I both sensed that Molly is an old soul, mature & professional beyond her chronological age.

Her bio continues, telling us that her writing credits include: “3 Dresses” (LaMaMa 2019) “Electric Circus” (Pepperdine University 2019), “Heartbeat” (NYU Tisch 2019), “Keaton and The Whale” (NYU Tisch 2018), “Cow is Me” (LaMaMa Puppet Festival 2018), “TEDQUEST” (LaMaMa Puppet Festival 2017, NYC Summerfest), “WE WROTE THIS” (Ryerson New Voices Festival & Winner Best of Atlantic Fringe Festival, 2014), “The Other Side of The Curtain” (Canterbury Children’s Theater Festival, 2009).

I heard she won The Weinberger Award, which led me to ask her some questions.

1. Are you more like your father or your mother?

I am for sure more like my dad.

My mom is very cool-headed and logical, and in my spiraling moments of anxiety, I do try to channel her as best I can, but my default setting is dad.

My dad has always played guitar as a hobby and growing up around live music has always been important to me. Both my mom and dad decided to put my sister and me in piano lessons, and my dad would sometimes play guitar when we would practice piano. I always found it very interesting how much depth is added to even the most basic songs when just an additional instrument / sound is added.

My mom is musical too, she used to play piano (and I think has been picking it up again lately!) and used to try to help us with our piano lesson’s homework at home. She, however, is a terrifying teacher and I would usually end in tears under the piano. I’m also a notorious baby and drama queen, and I would always end up doing the damn homework, come hell or high water.

Molly Reisman

2. What is the best or worst thing about What You do?

To me, the best thing about writing musicals as part of a team is collaboration. It is so helpful to not be writing into a void, and to have a partner who is willing to go down as many wrong-idea- rabbit holes as you are. Working with a collaborator has also meant that I am constantly surprised by what we create. Usually, when I write a lyric, I have a sound or melody or even a basic motif in mind, and 9.5 times out of 10, my collaborator will come up with something a million times more interesting than anything I could ever come up with. It is so rewarding to create something with another person this way.

Collaborating also means you usually can’t get away with bullshit. I’ve been blessed to work with composers who are far more interested in creating a compelling story with dynamic characters than sparing my feelings, and I feel the same. When working alone, it is very easy to get precious with your work and to be hesitant to cut or edit because you like the way a song sounds, or you think you wrote a clever lyric. With a collaborator, you are able to keep each other in line and sort of pull the thread of: “is this necessary?” or “this is kinda boring and makes me not want to hear from this character.” It can be hard, but ultimately, it will create a stronger piece.

At NYU I have learned 2 mantras that have saved me from (or revived me from) numerous meltdowns:
1. There is no such thing as a musical theater emergency
2. There’s always more where that came from.

The WORST thing about what I do is probably the terrifying instability of living as an artist. It’s obvious, I know, but as I said, I’m an anxious person down to my core, and being in an industry (with a degree as marketable as an MFA in Graduate Musical Theater Writing) that is so elusive and based so much on luck and network, it makes me wish I had the passion and interest I have in writing musicals in something like accounting or tort law.

3. Who Do You Like to Listen to Or Watch?

Right now, I’m obsessed with the soundtrack to Be More Chill. Joe Iconis is an alum of my grad program (NYU Tisch Graduate Musical Theater Writing Program) and I’ve always been a big fan of his work. The show is so funny and weird and refreshing and it’s just a lot of fun to listen to.

Since moving to New York, I’ve also been obsessed with anything and everything Dave Malloy. Ghost Quartet and Natasha, Pierre and The Great Comet of 1812 are some of my favourite shows (to watch and listen to) at the moment; I think it’s because Dave Malloy finds a great deal of vulnerability in characters or situations that at first blush can seem didactic or heady. He has a new show, Octet, that is opening off-Broadway soon, I can’t wait to see it. He’s also working on a Moby Dick musical, and since I am also working on a musical about a Whale, it is nice to keep tabs on him.

I’ve also been working as assistant to lyricist Mindi Dickstein and librettist Kirsten Guenther for the Paper Mill Playhouse Production of Benny and Joon (A new musical based on the early 90’s movie with Johnny Depp), which recently transferred from the Old Globe in San Diego.

Getting to listen to a large-scale piece throughout a rehearsal process has been unbelievable. Mindi Dickstein is faculty in my program (which is how I got the job), and Kirsten graduated from my program a few years ago, and it has been phenomenally inspiring to watch 2 female words-people from my program not only be exceptionally talented and endlessly focused on excellence, but also to see them run the space in the rehearsal room, and to a certain extent, their industry. It’s good to have role models.

4. What ability or skill do you wish you had, that you don’t have?

Oh, so many.

I wish I could:

Tap dance (well)
Play guitar
Have my shit together enough to actually do meal prep every week
Fall asleep at a reasonable hour
Have the ability to live and work in America for the foreseeable future (fingers crossed on a pending O-1 visa application)
Do yoga for like, more than 2 weeks
I wish I could read music at more than an incredibly basic level. It’s something I’m working on, but being at school with capital C Composers who have been studying ear training and composition for years and years is really great inspiration to crack those very boring music theory books once again.

5. When You’re Just Relaxing and Not Working, What is Your Favourite Thing To Do?

• I love dogs. I love looking at pictures of dogs, watching videos of dogs, dogsitting dogs, dreaming about fostering / adopting a dog… Last year I went to the Westminster dog show and watched Flynn, the Bishon Frise, get crowned Best in Show, it was a big moment in my life. I am currently working on a dog-centric musical which I am VERY excited about.

• It’s not as easy as it was when I lived in Toronto, but I love biking. I live in Brooklyn, close to some very nice waterfront bike paths, so my boyfriend and I sometimes rent bikes and make an afternoon of it. We can bike from our apartment to Coney Island- we haven’t done that yet, but that’s for sure something we want to do before this end of this summer.

• Seeing whatever Musicals I can. It used to be a lot easier when I was in school and did not have 3 jobs and 4 musicals on the go, but whenever I can get rush tickets, watching a show is still the most magical experience to me. I’m pretty sure I have become notorious in my circle of friends because, even though I have spent a good amount of time studying musicals, and even though certain aspects of being part of an audience of musical theater has been stripped of it’s magic because we’ve spent so long exhaustively studying all of the mechanics, I still weep openly during most musicals I attend.

Okay here’s my cheesy musical theater rant: I really do believe there is no more special experience than musical theater. A lot of people shit on musicals as pedestrian and basic, but, as NYU faculty member Michael John LaChiusa likes to say, when an audience buys a ticket to a musical, they are entering a contract to leave reality, suspend their disbelief and open themselves up to a very different kind of universe. That level of vulnerability from an audience and that kind of openness to go on a journey (whatever it may be), to a world that is so full of live music, and live actors, and to do so with a bunch of strangers, is something so special to me. I love musicals, and I love writing them. Okay rant over.

6. What is The Weinberger Award, and how did you, the graduate from Ryerson U, happen to win it?

This is the very first year of the Eric. H. Weinberger Award. It was given to me from Amas musical theater, which is all about supporting new musicals and diverse stories. At Ryerson University, there is a class for all students in acting and dance called Creative Performance, and as a final year project, students are invited to write and produce their own pieces. I think I owe a lot to Sheldon Rosen, the teacher of that class, as well as Mani Eustis, a very talented classmate and fellow Canadian writer, who suggested we write a musical together. Mani and I ended up writing a three-person show called “We Wrote This”. It was 1 hour long, we both wrote words, we both wrote music and we both acted and played instruments during the show. I think this opportunity from Ryerson with literally no rules and no structure let me jump into the deep end and let my voice be as weird and goofy and gross as it wanted to be (and it was very goofy and gross.).

I think coming into writing in such an open way let me approach all future musical theater writing in a very fearless way. I remember at one point in Creative Performance, Sheldon told us that he once wrote a stage direction where the roof was taken off of a building (or something to that effect) by the hand of Someone, and that it was something of a joy for a director to have to face the challenge of the fantastical. This is something I thought about a lot when working on my thesis project- a 90 minute musical called Keaton and The Whale (Book and Lyrics by Molly Reisman, Book and Music by Emily Chiu) , which would eventually win myself and my collaborator / co-bookwriter Emily Chiu the brand new Eric H. Weinberger award.

Molly Reisman and Emily Chiu

One of my very best friends (and roommate for my first year living in NYC) is Stephanie Sardelis. She was finishing up her Masters in Marine Biology at Columbia when I moved to New York to attend NYU. At some point in the middle of my first year, Steph decided to create a TedEd entitled “Why Do Whales Sing?”. I remember watching it and thinking about how interesting Whale song is, how diverse the sound system is, and how little humans know about it, and how advanced Whales are (and how old and ancient and mythical they are / appear) and I think I posted it on Facebook and my brother commented with a link to a Wikipedia article on the 52 Hz Whale– The only whale of his kind, he sings at a frequency of 52 hertz, which is about 3 times higher than any other whale can hear. Scientists call him the loneliest whale in the world.

I don’t know about you, but when I read that, my heart hurt. Immediately I knew this was something I wanted to write about.

I asked Steph about this whale and she showed me some more research on the 52 hz whale, how he has been tracked by scientists, and how, although he was very mysterious, rarely seen and even more rarely recorded, he seemed to be, by all accounts, a happy and healthy whale. We both sat on our couch and talked about how quickly humans project onto animals.

It was at this point that I knew I wanted to write about this for my thesis musical. But how the hell would I find someone willing to write a musical where one of the lead characters is a Whale?

In my first year at NYU, I was lucky enough to work with some of the second years, singing for various labs / phases of their thesis musicals. One project, by Emily Chiu and Ellen Johnston, was called Apollo, which was about a fortune telling octopus, among other things. I had been a huge fan of this piece and its writing team, and I took a shot in the dark and asked Emily Chiu if she would come back to NYU as an alumni collaborator to work on another ocean themed musical, this time about the loneliest whale in the world. Lucky me, she said yes and we began working on Keaton and The Whale.

Emily and I talked about The Whale, about loneliness, and about isolation. The character Keaton is based on one of my favourite musicians, Keaton Henson. I love him so much, he is so full of FEELINGS. Emily and I were often asked questions like “But How does the audience know there is a whale on the stage” or “Can you do this on stage? This feels more like a movie to me”. These were brutal to take, but we were in it together, and we could both see the piece so clearly as a trunk show, with an ocean ensemble that also functioned as the band for the piece.

Emily Chiu & the work in progress

When it came time for our thesis presentation, which is a 29 hour staged reading with equity actors, a Music Director and a Director, we were BLESSED with an unbelievably talented cast as well as the most imaginative and wonderful director we could hope for, a fellow Canadian, Leora Morris.

Leora is an amazingly imaginative director, while also keeping her dramaturgical ear to the ground. She asked us lots of helpful questions, but also saw the piece as we saw it, and had no problem creating a world where a blue sweater indicated that someone was embodying The Whale.

So the reading happened on May 1 2018, for an audience of our peers (and family and friends) and Emily and I were both happy with how it went. Leora mentioned to us that she thought it would be interesting to see how young audiences would receive the show. NYU graciously gave us the opportunity to do a second reading this past February, this time, aimed at young audiences. The edits we made helped us focus our story and figure out whom we were talking to and why.

Sometime in the midst of these edits, Emily sent me the link for the Eric H. Weinberger award for Emerging librettists and suggested I apply on behalf of the both of us. I looked up Amas musical theater and saw it was interested in engaging with young audiences as well as diverse stories, so I thought what the hell. I sent in our most recent libretto and some demo tracks, and it was judged by a double blind panel, and a few months later it was announced that Emily and I had won the award, as well as a production of Keaton and The Whale with Amas musical theater sometime in the 2019-2020 season.

I think that coming into musical theater with the idea that anything is possible on stage as long as it has emotional resonance with the audience is something I learned at Ryerson from Sheldon, and from working with Mani, and carried with me to NYU, and was strengthened by working with the genius that is Emily Chiu on this musical that was inspired by my best buddy Steph and my brother’s Facebook comment.

7. I hear you’re in Malibu, for a commission through Pepperdine. Tell me about it.

I am writing these responses on the plane coming back to New York from Malibu! It was my first time ever being in Malibu, and I can’t believe how gorgeous it was. It’s all beaches all the time. This commission from Pepperdine was a great honour and an unbelievable opportunity, but also, the very best mini-vacation ever.

The commission came about because my collaborator, Clayton Daniel Briggs, graduated from the composition program at Pepperdine University, and the head of the composition department, Dr. N. Lincoln Hanks, wanted him to present something he was working on. Clayton came to me with this news and we were both so excited. I had approached Clayton with the idea for Electric Circus about 2 years before this, while we were thinking about possible concepts for thesis musicals.

I stumbled upon an article about “The Real Life Dr. Frankenstein”, who inspired Mary Shelley to write her epic novel. His name was Dr. Giovanni Aldini, and he was the nephew of Luigi Galvani, a physicist and the father of Galvanism. Aldini worked for his uncle in his lab and seemingly idolized the man until Galvani’s theories of “Animal Electricity” were disproven by Alessandro Volta, and Galvani was shunned by the scientific community. Aldini took it upon himself to restore his uncle’s name by following up on his uncle’s research, specifically in sending electrical currents through frogs (which the late 1700’s onlookers thought of as re-animation), and eventually, working on a human subject, George Foster, a recently executed criminal, who was the subject of a live demonstration conducted by Aldini, which was an extremely well-attended event by the general public.

I thought there were a few interesting things about Dr. Aldini:

After contacting scientific historians across the world, and thorough online research, very little is known about Giovanni Aldini following his experiment on George Foster.
He was part of a scientific movement to take science to the public- to salons and to the streets, to more common folk, more than just the scientific community. This was at a time in history (the late 1700’s) where Science was still in a weird place of facts-based researched with a sprinkling of occult interference.
This got me interested in the idea of science for consumption and for entertainment as opposed to science in the pursuit of answering questions and solving problems.

Electric Circus is essentially the story of Giovanni Aldini, his desire for power, to right his family’s name, and the lengths he would go to get it.

So we wrote a draft of the show to fit the needs of Pepperdine (45 minutes, accommodating to a cast of x people, can be performed in a small space). We Skyped in for auditions and got to put in our two-cents as far as casting, and months later we flew down to Malibu to watch the final week of a 4 month rehearsal process.

While attending rehearsals, Clayton and I got the opportunity to teach some classes on collaboration, working with lyricists and what it’s like to be in the musical theater industry.

It was wonderful working with composers from all different backgrounds and watching our show come to life. The performance was a lot of fun and we both learned a great deal from the reading, and even on this flight home I have pages of notes for our next rewrite. Hi-Ho the glamorous life.

Clayton Daniel Briggs & Molly Reisman hit the road in service of their art (although I hear it was a lot of fun)

8. You had a “Kids puppet musical produced at La MaMa experimental theater club a few weeks ago, What was your objective when you were beginning to write?(was it a plot outline or something else that led you into it?)

I have had two short musical theater puppet works that were featured as part of the 2017 and 2018 LaMaMa Puppet Slam (“TedQuest” with Composer Andrew Lynch and “Cow is Me” with composer Clayton Daniel Briggs, respectively). I have always loved working with puppets, and recently, I have been very interested in writing for young audiences. Jane Catherine Shaw, the curator of the La MaMa Puppet Slam as well as an artist in residence at La MaMa, approached Clayton Daniel Briggs and me with an idea to do an interactive puppet musical for kids.

Again, Clayton and I were curious about writing for young people, and getting a show produced at an institution like La MaMa is an honour and a great opportunity. Clayton and I wanted to make the show as accessible as possible, to audiences of all ages (but probably between the ages of 3-5).

9. You’re writing the book to a musical. Supposedly, music says what words cannot say. In your way of working, does the writer decide where the songs should go, or the composer? Or maybe is it more fluid than that and you both have a say?

Writing book for a musical is a thankless task. Usually, the only time anyone talks about the book to a show is to say that it sucks. That is to say, when a bookwriter is doing their job, they should be invisible. To me, the big thing when writing the book to a show is figuring out the structure and the natural arcs of the characters. In terms of where a moment is musicalized, yes, it is usually the most heightened moments of a character deciding to change, or to take action to pursue a goal. That being said, in my experience, it changes for every collaboration. Sometimes the book writer is in complete control of where songs should go, other times it is a group decision. I like working with the composer to figure out what moments are sung. It’s also interesting when the story tells you where the songs should go. You can look at a moment and say, Okay, this is this character’s big number where they finally take that step or do whatever, and you’ll find you’ll write it and edit it and edit it a million different ways and it still doesn’t feel right. Usually that means that you’re not writing the right moment, and to re-assess where the character is in the moment and what is really happening in the story.

10. What else have you written? (Novels, poems, songs, plays without music?)

I wrote a pretty bad angsty novel in middle school. I used to write poems and I have written a few short plays. I mostly write songs and musicals at the moment.

11. Would it be fair to say you’re living your dream? (are you doing what you hoped to do, the writing, going to NY and California, context with what you expected when you were young)

I am absolutely living my dream. I am so very lucky to be doing what I’m doing. It’s a hard way to live and I’m always exhausted, but when I’m reaching breaking point and looking at my 100 page to do list, I remind myself that I’m doing the thing I love to do most in the world, and I can write whatever I want. Musicals have always been my deepest yearning in life- to watch them, to act in them, to write them, so to be here in the sky, enroute from a performance in Malibu to an upcoming performance of another 29-hour equity reading in New York at the end of April, I am overwhelmed, terrified, and so grateful and happy.

I think the weird 9 year old me who used to sit in the car reading the lyrics of “If I Can’t Love Her” out of the Beauty and The Beast Original Broadway Cast Recording CD jacket over and over again in her spare time would be happy about where I’ve ended up.

12. Is there a teacher or influence you’d care to name that you especially admire?

Truly, every faculty member at NYU Graduate Musical Theater Writing Program is an inspiration. Sarah Schlesinger, the chair of the department, cares so much about all of her students and has created the best faculty ever to support them, and offers her students opportunities to grow and learn around every corner.

Donna DiNovelli was my thesis advisor for Keaton and The Whale. She’s a brilliant librettist, film writer and film director and she constantly challenged the way I look at theatrical structure and form, and when I grow up, I hope to be brilliant like her.

Rachel Sheinkin, bookwriter extraordinaire (Tony award winner for 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee among other things) taught our book-writing class and, among the many gems of wisdom she has bestowed upon me, reminded me that book-writing should be engaging for the audience, but also fun to write.

WE’RE ALLOWED TO HAVE FUN!

Finally, Mindi Dickstein (lyricist for Benny & Joon and Little Women) is my mentor, even if she doesn’t know it yet. Her writing is beautiful and so smart and so funny, and she is an unbelievable force to be reckoned with.

Basically, I’m so grateful to all of the strong bad-ass women who surround me.

13. Plugs for upcoming:

Keaton and The Whale will be produced with Amas Musical Theater sometime in the 2019-2020 season

Electric Circus is planning on having a staged reading in NYC Halloween 2019, probably at the Pit Loft.

Heartbeat, my second thesis show (book and lyrics by Molly Reisman, book and music by Nathan Fosbinder) will be receiving a staged reading at NYU GMTWP blackbox April 30^th 2019.

Posted in Animals, domestic & wild, Dance, theatre & musicals, Interviews, Music and musicology, Popular music & culture, University life | Tagged 52-hertz whale, Clayton Daniel Briggs, Cynthia Ashperger, Electric Circus, Emily Chiu, Giovanni Aldini, Keaton and The Whale, Mani Eustis, Molly Reisman, NYU, Pepperdine University, Ryerson University | Leave a comment

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